Mar
9
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Devan Brie Green asked:
CHAPTER ONE
When I was a little girl, I loved to read. I liked the fairytales. People always found their match. There is always one true love, always a happy ending. Most of all I remember it was clear who the good guys were and who the bad guys were. One thing I can say about life. There aren’t any clear-cut good guys or bad guys.
I always thought I was a good girl. Maybe I was. But I am not a girl anymore. As I look back though, I wonder what I could have done differently. I keep trying to pick a point and say, ‘that’s where I messed up’, or if only I had not have done that particular thing’. But I don’t really know if anything could have gone any other way but the way it went. I’m writing this because I want an account of my view and I must leave the truth somewhere. Now this may shock some people, especially my children and friends. But at least they’ll know why I did it. No matter how bad a thing is I always thought knowing exactly how it happened helped me accept it. Now I don’t know if those closest to me could accept the fact that I killed a man. But once you finish this you may agree that given the situation what else could I do?
For a while I worried that I would get caught. I thought every moment after the affair was stolen, and that I should be in jail. These worries never drove me to confess. I will only confess here, and this only read after I am long gone.
Where should I begin? I guess at the point where I met ‘him’. I know deep down that meeting him was the catalyst which made all this come to pass.
I was at the Christmas party of Council Pro Tem, Phil Berghman. The party was held at Club Legacy in downtown, Detroit, not too far from the city county building where I interned. I was a production assistant for the media center. If not for the private party I would not have been there, I was not yet twenty-one. It was fun though, an older crowd. There were plenty of people ballroom dancing to the rhythm and blues. I wore a black crepe wool dress. It was fitted and had a plunging bodice. The club had three floors and the top two floors looked down over the main dance floor.
My co-worker, Daniel had coaxed me to dance and I was glad he did. He taught ballroom dancing in the evenings at another club and looked very good that night. Daniel normally had a geeky look about him. I guess he could not help his height and lankiness. But no one could hold a candle to him on the dance floor. He was smooth and talented. He taught me the tango that night. I felt nervous at first; but once I caught on I was having a great time. We must have looked good because people began watching us. That was when he first noticed me, I think.
After the song was over some people actually clapped. Daniel went to get me a drink. That’s when our eyes met. I felt him looking down at me. He was so handsome in his black suit. It was obviously a very expensive suit tailored to his magnificent physique. It made him look very powerful and fine. His hair was shiny, wavy and black. His skin was a flawless caramel complexion. What held my gaze were his eyes though. They were deep and mysterious to me. I swear my heartbeat quickened just looking into his eyes.
Daniel brought my Bahaman mama and drew my attention away. For a moment I wondered if Daniel were trying to get with me even though he was ten years my elder. Later in the evening, I decided that wasn’t the case because Daniel was in high demand on the dance floor and I ended up watching from the railing upstairs. I liked the upper level of the club because there were small round tables and chairs and a great view of the Detroit River. I left the railing and went to look out the window. There was a light snow covering everything. Even the silver sculpture in the middle of Hart Plaza had a thin layer of snow covering it.
“Hello,” I heard a smooth male voice beckon from behind me. I think I felt tingles before I even turned around. I turned around and must have looked nervous because he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Rigo”. I smiled demurely and told him my name. He complimented me on my dancing ability. I told him I had Daniel to make it look good.
There was chemistry between us from the first moment I saw Rigo. I felt as if I knew him all ready. He told me he felt the same way. Actually he brought it up first and I revealed that I felt the same way. Being with him was like constant De Ja Vue. But I sensed even more about him that I didn’t know, couldn’t know. I wanted to know though. Rigo had an aire of mystique about him that intrigued me. Power, and mystery emanated from him but I did not know the danger that also lay beneath his smooth character. But wait I don’t want to get ahead of myself.
Though he had been well dressed, I had no idea what kind of money he had at first. Now that I look back I think he must have wanted to know if I liked ‘him’ and not the money he had. Once he got to know me, he saw that I am not a gold digger. I never have been. It always occurred to me to get my own; and do my own thing. That night at the club I gave Rigo my correct phone number. He gave me a number, and even though I liked him I did not use it. He called about a week later. We spoke for hours, well into the early morning. I told him way too much information on me. I told him how I was going to school and interning at the media center. He learned of my love for film and my aspiration to be as big as Spielberg someday. He said maybe he could see my films one day. I thought to myself I don’t want to be alone with him on our first date so a private viewing of my demo reel would have to wait. I liked him well enough by the end of that conversation. However, I knew little about him. He was born in Toronto, didn’t have any family here in Michigan, and he had a love of film. His profession was still sketchy and most of the conversation steered toward my life and our similar philosophies on life.
CHAPTER TWO
I wanted to be cautious though. My last boyfriend had been a little psycho, I thought. He had been a total thug, who got high too often. I suspected him of cheating and was just tired of him so I dumped him. My phone rang off the hook for two weeks. He still called even a month later every now and then. At first he cussed me out for dumping him. Then he threatened to slash my tires. Finally he tried to be nice and get me to go back with him. So when I met Rigo, I was wary about jumping into a relationship. Especially since school was my path and not marriage.
It was a month before we saw each other again. We had a few conversations on the phone, which were stimulating mentally. I could tell he was a very intelligent man. He was one of those people who liked learning just for learning sake. It was interesting to talk to him because he had something to contribute on every subject that came up. This quality was exciting because many men either do not want to engage in such conversation with an attractive woman or they do not think deeply and cannot hold such a conversation with anyone. I suppose it is not a gender thing, I have female friends that I grew up with whom I cannot talk to about certain subjects. They just do not think on such things.
So when I called his cell phone that evening before I left the City County Bldg., I hoped to just engage in that stimulating conversation over dinner. He answered on the third ring, “Rigo.” He said. “Hi, Rigo this is Ashara. I was wondering if you wanted to meet for dinner, this evening.” I have always been assertive and so I said this matter of fact as if I would still have a great dinner without him. He seemed rather eager and was quite accommodating. “Hey, I see you are still at the office. How about we meet at Zeeks over on Madison St.?” I did not know what Zeeks was and he told me it’s an old jazz club that’s been in Detroit for 75 years. Until he said this I had no idea he was into jazz. “They serve great soul food.” I agreed and we were set to meet at 7pm.
I was glad he introduced me to Zeeks. It was like a set of an old film. The lighting was dim and intimate. The whole place was like a big circle surrounding a small circle stage. There was a band playing old school jazz. That day I wore those shiny jeans that were in style back then, they were a metallic gray and I wore a thin clingy black sweater. There was a older gentleman in a gray suit at the door when I entered he said, “Good evening sister. Would you like the dining room?” I told him I was meeting someone there. He said, “Rigo?” Apparently he was a regular. He led me to a small circular booth in the middle of the restaurant near the stage. Rigo wasn’t there, but the gentleman assured me that is where he was sitting. I sat down and looked around. I like to observe people and locations. Zeeks is the kind of place that would make a great location for a film. I made a mental note of that. I wondered how much they would charge me to shoot there.
A few moments passed and I became a little impatient. There was a small fake flower arrangement on the table, a candle that wasn’t lit, and a little caddy with salt, pepper and sugar packets. I first segregated the packets. Then I moved the flowers to the other side of the candle. A waiter wearing the standard black slacks, white dress shirt and black bow tie stopped at my table and took the candle from me. He smiled and lit it for me. “Good evening, sista” I smiled and said hi. Then he just left. I guessed he wasn’t my server. Just as I wondered where is Rigo? He appeared looking quite handsome in brown slacks and a brown and crème shirt. He always looked neat and smooth like he came out of a GQ magazine.
“I see you found it. How do you like it?” He smiled and joined me in the booth. He had a smile that took ten years of his face. He looked his age, twenty-four, but when he smiled he looked boyish and very handsome. In the past month I had not remembered him so handsome. I must have been enthralled in work and school so much that he had slipped my mind.
“It’s nice. It has a nice vibe.“ I replied. He told me how he loved to come there and listen to the old jazz and just chill. We sat and talked a lot about every thing. Rigo was passionate about everything. He talked a great deal; sometimes I could barely get a word in. I was enjoying myself though. We had been sitting there for about two hours when he asked me did I want to dance. I had been nursing my amaretto sour so long the ice was melted. There were only a few couples on the small dance floor. One couple was old and they looked very much in love. I guess he saw me smiling at them and figured I wanted to dance. But I was just thinking how they looked so content. I wondered how long had they been in love? Would I ever feel like that?
“Do you wanna dance?” he asked. The tingles I felt when he took me in his arms surprised me. His hands splayed at the small of my back and his cheek was next to mine. My body responded to his strongly. I felt instantly aroused and I couldn’t believe my feelings. He whispered, “You smell good.” I could feel his breath on my ear. “So do you,” I replied. Then he moved so that he was looking in my eyes and his lips were inches from mine. “What do you call that?” he asked. “What,” I replied mesmerized. I did not know he was still referring to my perfume. “Your perfume,” “Oh, it’s French, it was a gift, I forget how you pronounce it C’est something,” he cut me off by kissing me then. His lips were soft and his kiss was passionate. I couldn’t believe we were having this moment in public. I had never been an exhibitionist. But even though I thought these things, I did not push him away. I kissed him back and surrendered to the moment, the jazz music, the candlelight, and my very first taste of Rigo.
He walked me to my car and we did not want to part. He invited me to his apartment several times. He told me he lived in Ann Arbor and that I should come see his house. He explained that it was not that far, and I could get on 94 downtown and take it west. I could follow him, or he would drive and bring me back. It took all my will power that night not to go to his home. Rigo was so manipulative. He always had a way of explaining something that was not a good idea and yet make it seem rational. But I refused him that night. I could not drive thirty-five miles to and from his house and still go to class the next morning. So we kissed once more. This kiss was even more intimate and deep than the kiss at the club. It was like we didn’t want to end it, as if we were at the airport saying our goodbyes. I agreed to visit his condo the coming Friday.
Next draft Previous draft
LUCIANO
CHAPTER ONE
When I was a little girl, I loved to read. I liked the fairytales. People always found their match. There is always one true love, always a happy ending. Most of all I remember it was clear who the good guys were and who the bad guys were. One thing I can say about life. There aren’t any clear-cut good guys or bad guys.
I always thought I was a good girl. Maybe I was. But I am not a girl anymore. As I look back though, I wonder what I could have done differently. I keep trying to pick a point and say, ‘that’s where I messed up’, or if only I had not have done that particular thing’. But I don’t really know if anything could have gone any other way but the way it went. I’m writing this because I want an account of my view and I must leave the truth somewhere. Now this may shock some people, especially my children and friends. But at least they’ll know why I did it. No matter how bad a thing is I always thought knowing exactly how it happened helped me accept it. Now I don’t know if those closest to me could accept the fact that I killed a man. But once you finish this you may agree that given the situation what else could I do?
For a while I worried that I would get caught. I thought every moment after the affair was stolen, and that I should be in jail. These worries never drove me to confess. I will only confess here, and this only read after I am long gone.
Where should I begin? I guess at the point where I met ‘him’. I know deep down that meeting him was the catalyst which made all this come to pass.
I was at the Christmas party of Council Pro Tem, Phil Berghman. The party was held at Club Legacy in downtown, Detroit, not too far from the city county building where I interned. I was a production assistant for the media center. If not for the private party I would not have been there, I was not yet twenty-one. It was fun though, an older crowd. There were plenty of people ballroom dancing to the rhythm and blues. I wore a black crepe wool dress. It was fitted and had a plunging bodice. The club had three floors and the top two floors looked down over the main dance floor.
My co-worker, Daniel had coaxed me to dance and I was glad he did. He taught ballroom dancing in the evenings at another club and looked very good that night. Daniel normally had a geeky look about him. I guess he could not help his height and lankiness. But no one could hold a candle to him on the dance floor. He was smooth and talented. He taught me the tango that night. I felt nervous at first; but once I caught on I was having a great time. We must have looked good because people began watching us. That was when he first noticed me, I think.
After the song was over some people actually clapped. Daniel went to get me a drink. That’s when our eyes met. I felt him looking down at me. He was so handsome in his black suit. It was obviously a very expensive suit tailored to his magnificent physique. It made him look very powerful and fine. His hair was shiny, wavy and black. His skin was a flawless caramel complexion. What held my gaze were his eyes though. They were deep and mysterious to me. I swear my heartbeat quickened just looking into his eyes.
Daniel brought my Bahaman mama and drew my attention away. For a moment I wondered if Daniel were trying to get with me even though he was ten years my elder. Later in the evening, I decided that wasn’t the case because Daniel was in high demand on the dance floor and I ended up watching from the railing upstairs. I liked the upper level of the club because there were small round tables and chairs and a great view of the Detroit River. I left the railing and went to look out the window. There was a light snow covering everything. Even the silver sculpture in the middle of Hart Plaza had a thin layer of snow covering it.
“Hello,” I heard a smooth male voice beckon from behind me. I think I felt tingles before I even turned around. I turned around and must have looked nervous because he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Rigo”. I smiled demurely and told him my name. He complimented me on my dancing ability. I told him I had Daniel to make it look good.
There was chemistry between us from the first moment I saw Rigo. I felt as if I knew him all ready. He told me he felt the same way. Actually he brought it up first and I revealed that I felt the same way. Being with him was like constant De Ja Vue. But I sensed even more about him that I didn’t know, couldn’t know. I wanted to know though. Rigo had an aire of mystique about him that intrigued me. Power, and mystery emanated from him but I did not know the danger that also lay beneath his smooth character. But wait I don’t want to get ahead of myself.
Though he had been well dressed, I had no idea what kind of money he had at first. Now that I look back I think he must have wanted to know if I liked ‘him’ and not the money he had. Once he got to know me, he saw that I am not a gold digger. I never have been. It always occurred to me to get my own; and do my own thing. That night at the club I gave Rigo my correct phone number. He gave me a number, and even though I liked him I did not use it. He called about a week later. We spoke for hours, well into the early morning. I told him way too much information on me. I told him how I was going to school and interning at the media center. He learned of my love for film and my aspiration to be as big as Spielberg someday. He said maybe he could see my films one day. I thought to myself I don’t want to be alone with him on our first date so a private viewing of my demo reel would have to wait. I liked him well enough by the end of that conversation. However, I knew little about him. He was born in Toronto, didn’t have any family here in Michigan, and he had a love of film. His profession was still sketchy and most of the conversation steered toward my life and our similar philosophies on life.
CHAPTER TWO
I wanted to be cautious though. My last boyfriend had been a little psycho, I thought. He had been a total thug, who got high too often. I suspected him of cheating and was just tired of him so I dumped him. My phone rang off the hook for two weeks. He still called even a month later every now and then. At first he cussed me out for dumping him. Then he threatened to slash my tires. Finally he tried to be nice and get me to go back with him. So when I met Rigo, I was wary about jumping into a relationship. Especially since school was my path and not marriage.
It was a month before we saw each other again. We had a few conversations on the phone, which were stimulating mentally. I could tell he was a very intelligent man. He was one of those people who liked learning just for learning sake. It was interesting to talk to him because he had something to contribute on every subject that came up. This quality was exciting because many men either do not want to engage in such conversation with an attractive woman or they do not think deeply and cannot hold such a conversation with anyone. I suppose it is not a gender thing, I have female friends that I grew up with whom I cannot talk to about certain subjects. They just do not think on such things.
So when I called his cell phone that evening before I left the City County Bldg., I hoped to just engage in that stimulating conversation over dinner. He answered on the third ring, “Rigo.” He said. “Hi, Rigo this is Ashara. I was wondering if you wanted to meet for dinner, this evening.” I have always been assertive and so I said this matter of fact as if I would still have a great dinner without him. He seemed rather eager and was quite accommodating. “Hey, I see you are still at the office. How about we meet at Zeeks over on Madison St.?” I did not know what Zeeks was and he told me it’s an old jazz club that’s been in Detroit for 75 years. Until he said this I had no idea he was into jazz. “They serve great soul food.” I agreed and we were set to meet at 7pm.
I was glad he introduced me to Zeeks. It was like a set of an old film. The lighting was dim and intimate. The whole place was like a big circle surrounding a small circle stage. There was a band playing old school jazz. That day I wore those shiny jeans that were in style back then, they were a metallic gray and I wore a thin clingy black sweater. There was a older gentleman in a gray suit at the door when I entered he said, “Good evening sister. Would you like the dining room?” I told him I was meeting someone there. He said, “Rigo?” Apparently he was a regular. He led me to a small circular booth in the middle of the restaurant near the stage. Rigo wasn’t there, but the gentleman assured me that is where he was sitting. I sat down and looked around. I like to observe people and locations. Zeeks is the kind of place that would make a great location for a film. I made a mental note of that. I wondered how much they would charge me to shoot there.
A few moments passed and I became a little impatient. There was a small fake flower arrangement on the table, a candle that wasn’t lit, and a little caddy with salt, pepper and sugar packets. I first segregated the packets. Then I moved the flowers to the other side of the candle. A waiter wearing the standard black slacks, white dress shirt and black bow tie stopped at my table and took the candle from me. He smiled and lit it for me. “Good evening, sista” I smiled and said hi. Then he just left. I guessed he wasn’t my server. Just as I wondered where is Rigo? He appeared looking quite handsome in brown slacks and a brown and crème shirt. He always looked neat and smooth like he came out of a GQ magazine.
“I see you found it. How do you like it?” He smiled and joined me in the booth. He had a smile that took ten years of his face. He looked his age, twenty-four, but when he smiled he looked boyish and very handsome. In the past month I had not remembered him so handsome. I must have been enthralled in work and school so much that he had slipped my mind.
“It’s nice. It has a nice vibe.“ I replied. He told me how he loved to come there and listen to the old jazz and just chill. We sat and talked a lot about every thing. Rigo was passionate about everything. He talked a great deal; sometimes I could barely get a word in. I was enjoying myself though. We had been sitting there for about two hours when he asked me did I want to dance. I had been nursing my amaretto sour so long the ice was melted. There were only a few couples on the small dance floor. One couple was old and they looked very much in love. I guess he saw me smiling at them and figured I wanted to dance. But I was just thinking how they looked so content. I wondered how long had they been in love? Would I ever feel like that?
“Do you wanna dance?” he asked. The tingles I felt when he took me in his arms surprised me. His hands splayed at the small of my back and his cheek was next to mine. My body responded to his strongly. I felt instantly aroused and I couldn’t believe my feelings. He whispered, “You smell good.” I could feel his breath on my ear. “So do you,” I replied. Then he moved so that he was looking in my eyes and his lips were inches from mine. “What do you call that?” he asked. “What,” I replied mesmerized. I did not know he was still referring to my perfume. “Your perfume,” “Oh, it’s French, it was a gift, I forget how you pronounce it C’est something,” he cut me off by kissing me then. His lips were soft and his kiss was passionate. I couldn’t believe we were having this moment in public. I had never been an exhibitionist. But even though I thought these things, I did not push him away. I kissed him back and surrendered to the moment, the jazz music, the candlelight, and my very first taste of Rigo.
He walked me to my car and we did not want to part. He invited me to his apartment several times. He told me he lived in Ann Arbor and that I should come see his house. He explained that it was not that far, and I could get on 94 downtown and take it west. I could follow him, or he would drive and bring me back. It took all my will power that night not to go to his home. Rigo was so manipulative. He always had a way of explaining something that was not a good idea and yet make it seem rational. But I refused him that night. I could not drive thirty-five miles to and from his house and still go to class the next morning. So we kissed once more. This kiss was even more intimate and deep than the kiss at the club. It was like we didn’t want to end it, as if we were at the airport saying our goodbyes. I agreed to visit his condo the coming Friday.
Next draft Previous draft
LUCIANO